


Dreamer's Ball

by Ultra



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold in the Dark Castle, Dancing, Episode AU: s01e12 Skin Deep, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff in the Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time), Getting to Know Each Other, Tea, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-10 12:37:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14737091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/pseuds/Ultra
Summary: Exploring the Dark Castle, Belle finds a room with potential that inspires her to be bold, and strike a deal with Rumpelstiltskin.





	Dreamer's Ball

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever OUAT fic.

It had been more than a month, and still Belle had not discovered all the rooms of the Dark Castle. Each day she seemed to find a new door to open, a new treasure trove to explore. Though Rumpelstiltskin had his secrets, he seemed perfectly fine with her wandering freely in his castle, just so long as she had a good reason. If she was to keep the place tidy and clean, she must be able to go to all places for such a purpose.

Today, dressed in her usual white and blue, her beautiful brown locks covered with a headscarf, and a broom in her hand, Belle pulled at the latch on the large double-doors that she believed must lead to a grand dining hall or similar. She was more interested in seeing the wonders of such a room than really cleaning it, but it would be her excuse for entering, and she would complete her task as she should whilst she was there.

Belle began to cough the moment she stepped into the room. The floor was thick with dust and every window covered by heavy curtains designed to keep out every beam of sunlight that might enter. In the semi-dark, the poor girl stumbled a little, grabbing the nearest curtain to right herself. It was so old and tired, it came down with the force of her pulling, not nailed up as some others in the house had been. Immediately, the room was transformed.

The light of the sun danced on the surface of the floor, once highly polished and gleaming, Belle had no doubt, but now dusty and dim after too many years of neglect. The glass of the windows were stained in every rainbow colour and glittered beautifully, even though they too needed to be cleaned. Coloured spots of light fell onto the floor like tinted raindrops, as Belle hurried to pull open the rest of the curtains, lighting up the old ballroom like fairyland.

There was a smile on the young woman’s lips as she began to sweep the floor, making the broom her dancing partner. Oh the parties this room must have seen, the beautiful dresses and couples in love, moving majestically across the floor. It was a magical scene in Belle’s mind as she let herself imagine she was there herself, in the arms of a prince all her own.

Belle was hardly aware she was singing, not really aware of her dancing steps as she brushed away years of dust and grime from the floor, helping it find the shine it had lost too long ago. She could make the room beautiful again, as she saw it in her head. The idea of such accomplishment coupled with the beautiful vision in her mind led her to be completely distracted from the real world around her.

Rumpelstiltskin stood by the door watching his oblivious caretaker as she danced, eyes closed, with only a broom for an escort. When he saw the doors to the ballroom were open, he had half an idea to crash in here and throw her out of a place that he did not fancy her to see. Instead, he found he had become quite hypnotised just watching the woman dance.

It was not as if he were blind to her fine qualities. Any man would willingly die for a chance with such a beauty, such a sweet yet strong young lady as Belle. The difference was, he was not a man himself, not anymore, not for a long time now. It would not do for a creature like him to care too much, and she would certainly never truly care for him. The smile that had come unbidden to Rumpelstiltskin’s lips slid away when darker thoughts clouded his mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, too loud and fierce, he realised when Belle stopped her dancing so fast she almost pitched over with the force of a final twirl cut short.

“I... I’m sorry,” she apologised the very moment she realised he was there. “I am sorry.”

“Didn’t ask for an apology, dearie,” he pointed out as he walked further into the room, almost meeting her in the centre of the floor. “The question only regarded what you were doing,” he told her.

“Well, I was cleaning,” she said, considering her answer. “As you can see,” she said, daring a smile as she held up her broom as her evidence, “but I suppose I got a little distracted,” she admitted. “This room is... it must have been so beautiful”.

Watching her a moment as her eyes scanned the walls, the chandeliers overhead, the floor beneath that once gleamed, Rumpelstiltskin thought nothing of the beauty of the room itself, only of what he saw in her face, in her very being. Belle was far superior to the state of any room, both in looks and temperament. More time spent with her was more time to realise how special she really was. He wished he hadn’t noticed and didn’t care, but those were wishes even the great Dark One could not grant to himself.

“I don’t suppose you have parties and balls here,” said Belle then, feeling foolish for ever imagining such a thing could ever be possible.

“Not exactly a lot of people who would care to come,” he told her with a smile that was pained, she noticed. “Even fewer I’d care to invite.”

She nodded in understanding though she did not quite believe. Belle had been so sure when she came here that she was to live with a monster, a beast of some kind, and yet in the past weeks, Rumpelstiltskin had done nothing to really hurt her or even upset her. Yes, she slept in a dungeon room, but that was not so very bad. Her master had made no move to strike her, to attempt to get closer to her in any unseemly way. She realised he had scarcely even raised his voice in her company, and was completely unmoved by her damaging a tea-set she was sure would matter to him.

“It does seem a shame,” she said bravely, hoping she would not offend. “I mean, I can clean up in here, make the whole room as beautiful as it deserves to be, and yet... yet it will never fulfil its purpose. Never be enjoyed.”

Rumpelstiltskin couldn’t help but wonder how much she was talking about the ballroom now, and how much about herself. She was never to be seen by the world again, never to have men queue up to ask her to dance or make her their wife. She was to be here forever, in his debt for saving all those held dear to her. The least he could do was offer her a little happiness, he realised, as he watched her turn away, muttering about needing to get back to work.

“Belle?” he called for her attention and was not surprised to immediately get it - she was still a little afraid of him, he knew. “We could strike a deal,” he suggested, at which she looked curious.

“What kind of deal?” she asked warily, since their last had resulted in her being trapped here after all.

“If you could clean this room, the whole room, mind, every last inch,” he instructed, pointing a finger at her to enhance every important word. “Then perhaps we might make use of it as it was intended.”

Belle was a little confused at the offer of kindness. They had just established that a ball or party here would be impossible, so what exactly Rumpelstiltskin meant by making proper use of such a room, she couldn’t imagine. Stranger still was that he would wish to make any kind of deal to please her. She was here as his caretaker, his slave, or so she had assumed in the beginning. The longer she stayed, the more she wondered how anyone had ever called him evil or a monster, how she had ever let herself think he was a beast.

“It would be... a private party?” she assumed.

“Of sorts,” he agreed, “but there could be a dress, that any pretty girl would be pleased with,” he told her, circling her like a predator circles their prey, and yet she did not feel so very threatened. “You cannot dance in such a room in... that,” he said with a flick of wrist and a gesture at her dirty and dusty blue dress.

Belle couldn’t help but smile, despite the fact he was insulting her even now. A dress and a chance to dance in such a ballroom. She expected always to be in rags, nothing more than a servant girl, treated cruelly by the beast that took her from her family and friends. This was different, this was a dream come true in some small way. The smile on her lips lit up her whole being by the time Rumpelstilstskin faced her again.

“We have a deal,” she said boldly, extending her hand as if to shake on it as she had often seen her father do when an accord was struck.

“Indeed we do, dearie,” he agreed with his usual shrill laugh, no sooner taking her hand in his than disappearing in a puff of purplish smoke that blew up a cloud of dust from the floor.

Belle was coughing and spluttering in an instant, but laughing a moment later as she heard his own chuckling echoing even now he was gone. No, Rumpelstiltskin was not the monster she had assumed before, but he was a trickster. He assumed she would grow tired of her task long before it was complete, and then his end of the bargain would never have to be met. She would show him she could be just as clever as he. Belle began sweeping with renewed vigour, head tilted back, away from the clouds of dust that flew up with every stroke. She would have her dress and her dance, and sooner than old Rumpelstiltskin thought too!

* * *

It had taken two weeks, just two short weeks. Rumpelstilskin was surprised, he had not expected the girl to be so very determined. He had not relented in giving her additional tasks to complete. The ballroom was Belle’s own project, and whilst he was happy enough for her to clean it, that did not mean she could give up her other duties. It was necessary for her still to cook his meals, launder his clothes, all those daily tasks he had originally brought her here to do. In between, she washed the windows, scrubbed the floor, and polished up the almighty chandelier that hung in the ballroom. By evening time each day, she was practically dead on her feet, but still got up bright and early each morning, as required by her keeper. Yes, Rumpelstilstskin was impressed, though a little disturbed by how little he enjoyed her suffering.

On the last night, when he was sure her precious ballroom was all but perfectly spotless, she served him tea as always, an hour or so before they would retire to their beds. He had popped in and out of the hall whilst she was in the kitchen and saw her task was complete, as far as he could tell, which was why Rumpelstiltskin was surprised Belle did not mention that she had held up her end of their little deal.

“You are tired,” he said as she leaned heavily on the table whilst pouring his tea. “Overworked, but of your own doing, dearie,” he told her with a smirk.

“I’m fine, really,” she lied badly and he knew it.

Two steps from the tables edge towards his chair and she stumbled. He was there to catch her only just in time, and it was a miracle neither was burnt by the tea that poured over the edge of the cup. To her credit, it stayed on its saucer in her delicate hand - there would be no second chipped cup after all.

“Twice you have saved me in such a way," she said, smiling, though it was clear she felt far from well even now.

Rumpelstiltskin felt unnaturally awkward and strange as he turned her towards his own chair at the table and sat her carefully down. He knew what she meant, of course. The day she pulled down the curtains in this very room, she had fallen from her high perch, right into his arms. From that day to this, he had wondered at the feelings she could evoke in him, the emotions too close to those that made his former human-self weak. He pushed them aside as much as he could, but thought of them more often than was good for him.

“Drink the tea, there’s a good girl,” he told her, gesturing with both hands for her to get on with it and quickly. “Then go to bed and sleep away your wobbles. It won’t do to have the castle go to wrack and ruin because you work yourself to death.”

“But the ballroom!” she insisted, even as she watched his eyes harden and sipped her tea diligently. “I... I’m so close,” she explained. “One more day to finish polishing the floor and it will be complete,” she told him, tears forming in her eyes that broke the heart Rumpelstiltskin was sure he should no longer possess.

“No matter,” he waved a hand with a flick of his wrist, pouring a cup of tea for himself without hardly looking at her. “It will keep until you are feeling better. You’re no use to me as you are,” he told her, ever aloof.

Before long her tea was all drunk and her cup placed delicately on the table. Immediately he sent her off to bed.

“Mind you don’t trip down the steps to your room,” he told her, his tone speaking the words like a command, and yet when he glanced at her she was sure she saw a caring in his eyes she could scarce believe.

Perhaps she was just more tired than she thought, Belle considered. She moved as quickly as she dare down the steps and through to her room. Just as soon as her head touched the pillow she was fast asleep, never knowing that Rumpelstiltskin had watched over her all the way down there, strangely afraid of her injuring herself on the short journey to bed.

* * *

Belle woke with a start to realise the sun was high in the sky. She must have slept at least half the day away and the realisation of it panicked her. Perhaps the strangest thing was knowing that she was still here, alone and undisturbed, unharmed by her captor who surely should have been angry at her disobedience and lazy behaviour. She was up and scrambling from the dungeon as fast as her legs would carry her, only realising as she neared the top of the stairs into the main hallway that her clothing felt strange.

Glancing down, Belle realised she was not wearing the usual blue dress that she went to bed in. Instead a beautiful gown of yellow gold fell to her feet, even more beautiful than the similar dress she had been wearing when she arrived at the Dark Castle. A hand to her head proved that her hair was also styled differently, all up in a pile on her head, and fixed with pins. There was a deep frown on her face as she looked around for a mirror, realising of course that there were none that were permitted to be uncovered in this place.

“I don’t... I don’t understand,” she said to herself, startled again in a moment as the double doors to her left opened all of their own accord.

They swung inwards, and some strange sensation pulled Belle towards the ballroom she had spent so long cleaning, scrubbing, and polishing. She did not know what to think as her eyes went to the floor as she entered, only to realise that the polishing she knew she had not finished herself was now complete. The room sparkled and shone, as beautiful as fairyland, just as she had imagined. Dressed as she was, she belonged just perfectly, and wished more than anything that she was not alone. As if by magic, when she turned in the centre of the floor, she realised that wish had come true too.

“Here she is,” said Rumpelstiltskin as she faced him at last. “These were the terms of our deal, were they not?” he said, gesturing to the room around them and the dress Belle wore.

“Er, yes, indeed,” she nodded, quite astounded and overwhelmed. “But the room was not complete... and the magic you have used is beyond anything...”

“Minor details,” he told her, making a clicking sound of annoyance and waving away her concerns. “We have our ballroom, we are dressed the part,” he said, as Belle only now noticed that he was dressed differently too, so smart and dare she think handsome in a dark suit with accents of glittering gold to match her dress.

“May I have this dance, kind sir?” she asked bravely, before he had the chance to either ask a similar question or change his mind entirely.

“One thing missing, dearie,” he pointed out, and then with a final gesture of his hand, music began to play.

Belle had no idea where it was coming from, but suddenly there was the beautiful sound of an orchestra, playing the most elegant waltz. With a smile never to be rivalled in brightness by even the most glorious star, she dipped into a curtsey, which Rumpelstiltskin echoed with a gracious bow, before reaching to take her hand.

Neither was sure if they were shaking or if it was their partner doing so, as she placed one hand in his and the other at his shoulder, the fingers of his own free hand curling around her waist. They began to dance, and Belle was sure the floor she had spent so much time scrubbing, that Rumpelstiltskin himself must have finished polishing albeit magically, was no longer beneath her feet.

The sound of her joyful laughter was almost louder and definitely more beautiful than the magical music he had conjured, Rumpelstiltskin thought, as he turned his Belle around and around the floor. He had not danced in a great many years, had never thought to do so again and yet here he was. Should he believe in miracles, this would be one, he was sure.

Belle hardly knew what to think as she looked up into the eyes of a supposed beast and saw the kindness of a truly caring man. She would be a fool to like him too much, to put trust in such a creature, and yet he was proving his worth to her. Last night, he was so sweet when she felt wretched. Today he had kept his end of their bargain in the most delightful of ways.

Perhaps it was better for neither of them to think too much about what they were doing, what they might be feeling. Whilst opposites were said to attract, such a relationship in any form would be foolish at best and tragic at worst. They both knew that tomorrow they must go back to being as they were, her the servant girl and him the master, one good and kind, the other dark from the inside out. For today only, they were whoever they wished to be and happy to be so for as long as it lasted. Best then to just keep dancing, they supposed in their own separate minds, without concern for what became of them later, when the music stopped.


End file.
